The Senator's Wife
by SuGaRnSpIcE4222
Summary: AU. Twenty six year old Elizabeth Saunders has no idea what's in store for her when she makes an unexpected trip to Storybrooke with her daughter, Allie. And the Charming family isn't complete without their final member. Thankfully, she's finally returned home... Rated M for language.


Storyline: AU. Emma had finally broken the curse, and it was time for the Charming's to move on as a family. But they couldn't do that until their family was complete. The Twenty-six year wife of Senator Jack Saunders, Elizabeth, has no idea what's in store for her when she and her daughter take the scenic route through Storybrooke…

Author's Note: So, this is my first Once Upon a Time fic, and I haven't written fanfic in a while, so please bear with me! I hope everyone enjoys.

Disclaimer: I don't own the canon characters. They belong to ABC and the producers of Once Upon a Time, for which I am not an affiliate with. The only characters I own are the originals that aren't seen on the show.

It was hot, excruciatingly so, Emma thought as she wiped a lone bead of sweat from her pale forehead. She had answered a call about a riot in town, which turned out to be a prank set up by one of the local kids. "Teenagers," she grumbled quietly under her breath. "Hated 'em even when I was one." She rounded the corner to the sheriff's office, finally ready (okay, not so much ready as forcing herself) to finish the pile of paperwork she'd let stack up on her desk. The building was almost within reach and already she could feel the cool wisps of the AC seeping out from under the doors to grasp at her ankles; the tease was enough to make her pick up the pace marginally.

"Okay, paperwork, it's me and you now. Prepare to be destroyed," she announced upon entering the building. There was no one there, of course, which was great because they'd have deemed her certifiable if they ever heard her talk to the mountain of work on her desk. Then again, most people were still intrigued by her for the mere fact that she was considered the savior, anyways. She wasn't unfamiliar to the attention they paid her, nor was she particularly fond of.

"Who are you talking to?"

Startled, Emma stopped dead in her tracks, lifting her gaze to meet a pair of concerned, accessing chocolate eyes. "Mary Margaret. I had no idea anyone was here."

"We both are," David added, rounding the corner behind his wife. He took Mary Margaret's hand in his and gave it a tender squeeze. Noticing this, Emma got the feeling that the meeting was not of the casual sort and brushed past them to her desk. It was small, made of oak, and nothing fancy, but she liked it because it had been Graham's. That alone made the piece priceless and worth putting up with. She pulled out her chair and took a seat, then turned to face her parents.

"So, what's up?"

"What makes you think something is up?" Mary Margaret asked, assessing her daughter in greater detail than before.

Emma lifted an eyebrow. "I wasn't a successful bail bondsman through pure dumb luck. I know when something is up."

"Let's just tell her, Snow," David whispered, leaning in. His wife's soft black hair brushed faintly against his face and smelled sweetly of lavender and vanilla, a combination of the shampoo and conditioner duo she used.

"Tell me what?" Emma demanded rather impatiently.

David pulled the chair parallel his daughter out for Mary Margaret, and with a wave of his hand, gestured for his wife to sit. Mary Margaret did so gratefully, and then turned to look up at David. It was clear he was going to have to start the conversation. "We haven't been completely honest with you," he began.

What more could there be to add to the story? She had already (barely) accepted the fact that her life literally belonged in a story book. That she was the daughter of a fairytale couple she'd only been lucky enough to watch on VHS a few times in her unprivileged childhood. She'd settled for staying in Storybrooke for Henry's sake, and for her own was slowly trying to accept that the orphan she once was, was no more. Suddenly having a set of loving parents-the ones she'd often dreamed would come back for her when she was a child- felt intrusive and was disconcerting to say the least, but she was holding up behind her thick walls and doing a pretty damn good job of it, if she did say so herself. Thoughts raced through her mind, her curiosity peaked, and she returned her gaze back to David.

"You were still a baby when Regina put forth her curse. But you weren't as young as we've let on."

"I'm not following," Emma said irritably.

"You were two. And you weren't alone when we sent you through the portal."

"Well who was I with then?" The shock of her age alone had been enough to upset her. How could her parents, who apparently had raised her and loved her for two years, just let her go? For her own good or not, the thought ticked her off.

"Your sister," Mary Margaret spit out. "You were with your sister."

The statement felt like a blow strong enough to knock the wind out of her. Was that what wrestlers felt like in the ring? Probably not; at least they knew where they came from. "My sister?" she finally choked out. Her eyes lowered to the paperwork on her desk, and she kept them there, fearing she might show more affection than what was comfortable for her.

David nodded slowly, watching his daughter carefully for her reaction. As usual, her walls were damningly high and he saw the difficulty with which she blockaded them out. "She was a newborn when we Regina cursed us. We sent her through the portal with you."

"We just wanted you two to have your best chance…" Mary Margaret trailed, feeling the same rush of guilt she felt the day the curse had broken.

"But the castle… my nursery… all that you told me about wanting to raise me there… It was a lie?" If there was one thing that made Emma Swan's blood boil, it was lies.

"No," Mary Margaret shot back quickly. "Not a lie. I meant every word I said. When you were born I dreamt of raising you in that nursery; laying you to bed in your crib at night was the greatest joy of my life, and when I went to bed at night I dreamed of the day you and I would soon do all the things mothers and daughters do. Dress up, play dolls, have tea parties…" A small smile spread across her cherry colored lips.

"We didn't tell you about your sister sooner because we wanted you to adjust first to having parents. We didn't know how you'd handle it," David explained

"Handle it? Handle it?! I'd have handled it a hell of a lot better if you had started with the truth! All of my life all I've ever gotten from people has been lie after lie! I never expected you two of all people-" She stopped, catching her guard slip. She paused, recollecting herself, and thought of where she wanted to begin again. "You should have told me. I'm an adult; deciding what I can or cannot handle is not your choice to make. In fact, we're the same age. And I've done very well for myself for the last twenty eight years, thank you very much."

…..

The rest of the day seemed to drag on, but Emma was in no rush to get home to where she was certain her parents were waiting to continue their little conversation. Hell, if it wasn't for Henry, she'd probably just make herself comfortable in one of the holding cells for the night; she'd slept in worse, after all.

But alas, she couldn't. Henry was due off the bus at any minute and she had to be there when he got off-even if he did insist his age made him eligible to walk home by himself. She hadn't touched nearly as many of the files she had planned on, and attributed that to the shocking news of a baby sister. "I oughta make them finish my paperwork," Emma muttered, holding her parents responsible for how much farther behind she now was with her work. Grabbing her stuff, Emma absent-mindedly left the office for the bus stop.

She wasn't really paying attention, her mind still amass with thoughts, gut still soaked with fury over being lied to; walking with her head down, she froze when she collided with another person.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry."

The female voice that greeted her didn't sound familiar in the slightest, which was odd because Emma knew roughly everyone in Storybrooke. It wasn't a town of a particularly large size. And besides that, Henry's story book had pretty much covered everyone that lived that. Which, she thought quickly, begged the question of why it had never so much as alluded to this secret sister of hers.

"It's alright. It's my fault, I should have been looking where I was going," Emma finally spoke, collecting herself. Looking up, she saw that the woman was of a shorter stature; she had short, dark hair, and where she was once probably very slender, she swelled with a pronounced pregnancy bump. To her left, a small little girl with bouncing blonde pigtails clung sheepishly to her mother's calf, thumb in mouth.

Emma realized with a dropped jaw, that though she may not have recognized the woman's voice, her features were certainly very recognizable.

"Are you alright?" The woman asked, eyes scrutinizing.

Emma sucked her jaw back up, forcing out a jumbled mix of 'yes' and 'yeah'.

The woman's gaze lingered for a moment longer before, apparently satisfied, she smiled apologetically. "I don't balance as well as I used to," she joked, placing her free hand on her belly. "My name is Elizabeth, Elizabeth Saunders."

"Emma…. Emma Swan," Emma introduced herself. "I'm the Sherriff here in Storybrooke."

Elizabeth blushed sheepishly. "Well then I really oughta pay attention to where I'm going, or you might cite me for reckless walking and endangering a pedestrian." Even as the joke left her mouth she knew it was stupid, but that kind of silly humor was part of what defined Elizabeth. Marrying an always serious politician hadn't quelled that character trait.

"Well, as a welcoming present, I'll let it slide this time," Emma winked, feeling a burst of fresh curiosity and intrigue. Emma knew instinctively who the woman was. Only people related to Storybrooke in one fashion or another could locate the magically cloaked town. Aside from that minor detail, there was a sort of familial tug that pulled at her mind. "It's nice to meet you, Elizabeth. What brings you to Storybrooke?"

Elizabeth smiled warmly, inviting the adult conversation that she so rarely got. "My husband- he's a senator… Senator Saunders-"

Emma nodded; she'd heard of him.

"Anyways, my husband is back in Washington for the millionth time," Elizabeth said, and Emma thought she detected an ounce of bitterness in her statement, "And, well, I'm due soon with our second child. My doctor suggested I stay close to home, but oh you know how doctors can be, and anyway, we were both getting a little cooped up at home. So, I packed a few things, got in the car with Allie, and decided we were going to have our own little adventure."

Emma's smile broadened. "She's cute. Allie," she nodded at the little girl who still clung to her mother like glue.

"Thanks!" Elizabeth beamed proudly down at her daughter. "She's being shy now, but usually she talks up a storm and moves like the Energizer bunny."

Emma chuckled. "Sounds like a toddler," she agreed. "How old is she?"

"Two and a half. She'll be three in December. Do you have any?"

Emma nodded. "A son; Henry; he's eleven," She jumped. "Oh! He'll be getting off his bus soon. That's actually where I was headed. But if you're going to be in town for a while, I'd love to maybe have coffee, get to know you a little more." Curiosity had the better of her. 'Curiosity killed the cat, Emma,' she scolded herself.

The idea of more adult interaction seemed to be more than Elizabeth could pass up and she excitedly nodded her answer. "I'm staying over at this little Inn."

"I know the place," Emma said, because it was the only one in town. "Granny's."

"That's the one," Elizabeth said.

"Well then how about we meet there tomorrow morning, say around 9?" Emma suggested

Elizabeth grinned. "See you then."

Emma let her gaze linger for a moment longer- watching as Elizabeth continued on her way, Allie toddling next to her, hand in hand,- before she turned for Henry's bus stop. Well if that wasn't coincidence slapping her in the face…


End file.
